


Night falling softly and without mercy

by elareine



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Assassination Attempt(s), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Marriage Proposal, well sort-of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 12:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: Prince Tim receives a proposal he can ill afford to turn down. To save his son from an unhappy marriage, King Bruce has an idea—an idea that forces Jason and Tim to confront the truth they have avoided for three years.





	Night falling softly and without mercy

**Author's Note:**

> For Batfam Bingo Square: AU: Royalty.

Perhaps the marriage proposal had been inevitable. After all, Tim was third in line to the Midnight Throne. A cynical man might speculate on his brother’s death. A tactical man might consider that he would have the ear of the current and any future king either way. With Tim’s twenty-first birthday quickly approaching, the time seemed ripe for him to make a good match. 

This particular proposal would be a hard one to turn down, Tim thought. The girl in question was charming and intelligent—an ideal companion for someone like him. More importantly from a diplomatic point of view, she was a daughter of Bane, the ruler of the Snake’s Head kingdom. 

A gentle knock at the door pulled him out from his thoughts. Tim frowned and called out: “Yes?” 

Jason was already moving, though. Opening the door cautiously and at an angle as always, he smiled at whoever was on the other side. “Ah, thank you, Maisie.” 

When Jason turned back to Tim, the door clicking shut behind him, he held a steaming cup in his hand. Tim perked up as Jason carried it over to the writing desk the prince was sitting at. “Is that coffee?” 

At Jason’s nod, Tim grabbed the cup unceremoniously and inhaled the scent deeply. Ever since they had begun to trade with Metropolis again two years ago and the precious beans had become available in Gotham again for the first time in his lifetime, he had been devoted to hot, bracing drink. The only reason he did not take a sip right away was that Jason did not like it.

“Don’t burn yourself,” his guard warned anyway. 

Tim smiled at him. “Thank you.” 

“You looked like you needed it. Difficult night?”

“Correspondence with Snake’s Head, from Bane himself.” 

“That’s a ‘yes’, then.” Jason frowned. “He wrote to you directly? I was under the impression he refused to communicate with anyone but King Bruce.” 

Tim considered his answer carefully. 

There was nothing you could keep secret from your personal guard. From other servants, maybe— though Tim had no doubt that every single member of the household staff could reveal the most riveting gossip about the royal family to the world if they chose to do so. 

Your personal guard, however? Bar when they traded places with another soldier to rest and have some free time, they were with you twenty-four hours of the day. Tim had given up on keeping secrets from Jason years ago. 

Well. Except for the one. 

“He wrote to Father, yes,” Tim answered slowly. “As it concerns me, I believe Father has left it on my desk so I could acknowledge it… or not.” 

He could feel his back muscles tense at the thought of it. Seconds later, he felt a huge, warm hand land on his neck, gently massaging where it hurt the most. “And will you?” 

“I should, considering it is a proposal for me to marry his oldest daughter.” 

The hand stilled for a brief second. Jason’s voice was even as he asked again: “And will you?” 

For a second, Tim considered confronting Jason over his reticence. Shake him. Yell, maybe. Anything to finally get a reaction. He was tired of this.

Instead he said: “It might be a way to influence Bane on certain issues. Guarantee the peace.”

“If you think he values his daughter that much.” 

Tim sighed and finished his coffee. “Still, it’s a possibility, and a ‘no’ a definite political calamity. I need to speak to Father.” 

“At least we can be sure he’ll still be awake, as well.” Jason sighed, too, but it sounded almost fond. 

“Will you accompany me there? I know it is past your shift change already.” 

Jason chuckled. “When has that ever stopped me?” 

That was true. Tim was fully aware that he slept less than most people. He had a tendency to get lost in whatever matter of state he was currently working on and surface at about the time most righteous people would wake up. Jason had never seemed to mind, though, beyond gently (and persistently - one could even say annoyingly) reminding Tim that he should go to sleep. If he considered the matter Tim was working on important enough, he would stay up with him, either reading a book or joining in on the discussion. 

At first, Tim had only tolerated his input on sufferance. As it turned out, however, his bulking mountain of muscle of a guard was smarter and spoke more languages than he’d let on in the beginning. The issue of drug smuggling in the harbour and border districts and the resulting unrest seemed to be the one that interested Jason the most. Tim figured it had been that particular group of outlaws that had sent Jason to kill him. 

Oh, yes, he knew about that. 

It had become laughingly obvious that Jason wasn’t exactly a regular bodyguard the first time an assassin had tried to take Tim out. 

Now, Tim had always been perfectly able to take care of these would-be assassins himself, thank you. It was the reason he’d gotten away without having a personal guard until he turned 18. So he’d been prepared to jump out of the way of the knife and acquaint the assassin with the handy staff he carried under his overcoat— when Jason had moved his body between his attacker and him, made the man crumple to the ground, and turned to fire two arrows from a crossbow Tim hadn’t even known he was carrying. 

Two thumps behind them had signalled the arrows had found their targets. 

“Couldn’t you have left one alive?” Tim had asked. 

Before his eyes the crossbow had vanished again. He’d need to remember that trick. “Oh, this one,” Jason had nudged the first attacker casually with his foot, “is only unconscious.” He’d paused. “And will be for some time.” 

“Then there is no need to stay. We are late already.” Tim had turned and walked away. 

Behind him, he’d heard Jason laugh, then fall into step. He was fairly certain that had been the day they had become friends. 

Now Jason was walking closely behind him again, though he fell back once they’d reached the door to Bruce’s private chambers. He knew there was no safer place in the whole palace. Here, it was alright for him to wait outside. 

Bruce called him in as soon as Tim knocked on the heavy door. His king was sitting at his desk, clad in his sleeping clothes and a silk robe. He turned to greet Tim.

“Tim. You have read the letter?” 

Tim nodded, settling down on the edge of the desk. There was no one else here; no need for a good posture. 

“What do you think?” Bruce asked.

“There are certainly advantages to his offer.” 

Bruce nodded for him to continue. 

“It would give us political leverage over Snake’s Head. Maybe give the king an incentive to stop shipping their poison into our kingdom,” Tim listed. “Considering he only has one son, any… offspring would tie us closer to them.” 

Bruce’s face became grave. Tim readied himself for the worst. 

“Tim, what about me adopting three children and having one son out of wedlock gave you the impression I cared about royal lineages or alliances through marriage?” 

Tim didn’t know what to say to that. 

His father continued: “Your reasons honour you— but I haven’t heard that you want to marry her.” 

“I don’t. I…” Tim swallowed. To his humiliation, he felt his eyes grow wet. 

They weren’t physically demonstrative with each other often. Now, Bruce stood up and pulled Tim into a hug. “Oh, son. You do so much already. _So much_. You don’t need to do this.” 

Tim pressed his face into his father’s neck and tried to breathe. Times like these, he could still hear his mother telling him he was useless but for his birth status. Bruce had never been like that. Some nights, that was easier to remember than others. 

Slowly, his breathing returned to normal. 

“Bane will not appreciate a rejection,” was all Tim said when Bruce let him go.

“Yes, that could be a difficulty… Of course, if you were to, say, acquire an engagement we could proclaim tomorrow, we could always pretend to have received the letter too late.” 

Tim couldn’t help it— his jaw dropped. “Father! Are you suggesting…” 

Bruce held up a placatory hand, but Tim could see his eyes laughing. “Just a suggestion.” 

Somehow, Tim had the distinct feeling he was being played. If his older brother weren’t currently away on a mission, he would have suspected him behind it. As it was, Tim looked at his father suspiciously but granted: “It would help.” 

“Something to talk about, maybe.” Bruce was smiling way too innocently now, his face closer to the one he presented at court than his private one. “A different sort of alliance, so to speak.” 

“Please don’t continue with that thought,” Tim groaned. Then, despite himself: “You wouldn’t mind?” 

Bruce’s answer was a gentle push toward the door. “Let me know how you decide in the morning. And Tim— try to sleep.” 

“Pot, kettle. Good night, father.”

Outside, Jason turned towards him immediately. His face was visibly tense. Tim smiled at him and started walking towards his quarters. 

Still, Jason must have seen the remnants of tears in his face. He walked closer to Tim than on their way here, gently touching his elbow and asking: “Are you alright?” 

Tim felt his cheeks heat up. 

Damn his father. Now he was thinking about it. 

“Yes,” he reassured Jason. Not wanting to have this discussion in the corridor, he tilted his head towards his rooms. Jason nodded and followed him quietly for the rest of the way. His hand stayed on Tim’s arm. 

Once they were behind closed doors, Tim sat down. Unlike before, Jason did not avail himself of the setteé behind him, nor took up guard at the door or the balcony. Instead he stood a few feet away from Tim, waiting. 

It felt tense, somehow. Like a precipice. As if they both knew their lives would change, now, but neither could guess which direction it would take. 

“You know, I’ve been wondering,” Tim told Jason casually—as if he hadn’t wanted to ask this question for almost three years now—, “why you didn’t kill me.” 

He kind of expected Jason to deny it. Jason was talker, always mouthing off to whoever it was that managed to annoy him right now. Tim enjoyed that quality; he never tired of the murmured running commentary Jason kept up during state functions. Tim had seen him talking himself out of situations where anyone else would have done well to keep quiet. 

But Jason didn’t deny it. His tone was matter-of-fact. 

“If it had been purely an assassination attempt, you’d be dead. I don’t need to come near you to kill you.” Jason paused. “In fact, we had already decided it would only be possible to get any of you from a distance. Take that as a compliment.” 

Tim did, actually. 

Then he asked again: “Why did you not kill me?” 

Jason seemed to think for a moment; then he stepped closer. When Tim didn’t flinch, he sank to his knees and knelt right in front of his chair. With Jason’s height, he remained almost eye-level with Tim; still the meaning of the gesture was not lost on Tim. 

“We became convinced you are doing everything you think you can to stop the influx of Bane’s poison into our home. Eliminating you would not have served our purpose.” 

There were nuances to that statement. Tim wanted to ask about the ‘we’, about ‘everything you _think_ you can’t; he forced himself to concentrate on Jason. 

There was something crooked in Jason’s mouth now, as if he was on the verge of smiling— but not quite. “You’re asking the wrong question.” 

Tim thought about it. 

“Why did you stay?” 

Plenty of people had tried to kill him before. Plenty of others hadn’t. Few had ever stayed, especially once they knew him as well as Jason did. 

“Because I wanted to.” Jason paused, seemed to consider his words. “To stay with _you_ , that is, as lovely as having a roof over my head and regular income is.” 

Something was forming in the back of Tim’s throat (laughter, maybe, or a sob) and for a moment he couldn’t speak. Jason was moving closer, a hand on Tim’s thigh—gently spreading it to make room for himself—, the other on Tim’s neck. Tim could smell him, leather and incense. He hadn’t realized he had leaned forward but was glad that it had put him into easy touching distance. 

Finally, Tim said: “So if I were to say that I want to marry no-one but you…” 

The smile finally unfurled on Jason’s face. “Then I would gladly agree—but also point out that we seem to have done this backwards, and that it is customary to at least share a kiss before a marriage proposal.”

“Please,” Tim whispered. 

Jason surged up, his mouth firmly pressing against Tim’s. 

For a second, it was as if either neither of them knew what to do now that they were finally here. Then Jason adjusted the angle a bit, and Tim looped his arms around his neck, and it was everything he’d ever wanted. 

After a long, long moment, Jason broke away—but barely, staying so close he was whispering into Tim’s mouth as if he couldn’t bear to be parted any farther. “Is this alright?” 

Tim kissed him in answer, a bit more heat behind it now, parting his lips. His eyes fell shut at the first touch of Jason’s tongue. 

Suddenly Tim was intensely aware of Jason’s hand on his thigh. It wasn’t doing much, just gently gripping, the thumb rubbing slow circles; Tim couldn’t help but buck into it, something close to a whimper escaping into Jason’s mouth. 

Tim didn’t know how long they stayed like that, kissing and kissing and kissing, before he felt Jason’s muscles tense. He kept his own relaxed enough to make it easy for his partner to pick him up in a bridal carry as Jason stood up. Their lips never parted even as Jason carried him towards the bed. 

Distantly, Tim thought that he probably liked that feeling a bit too much. Also that he would likely need to forbid Jason from doing the same thing in front of everyone on their wedding day. 

Their wedding day. 

Because this was Jason agreeing to marry him. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Tim gasped as his back hit the mattress on his bed. 

Jason followed him half-way, though he seemed to remember that unlike Tim—who was in his night clothes and had lost his slippers on the way—, he was still fully clothed in his uniform and boots at the last second. “Excuse me, which one of us is a _prince_? I was waiting for you. I wasn’t sure you—” He stopped. 

Tim considered that for a moment before slipping past Jason and off the bed. 

Now it was Tim who knelt on the ground before Jason; Tim who took off Jason’s boots with quick fingers; who gently peeled off his breeches and worshipped his skin with light kisses. Finally, he looked up again; whispered: “I’m sure.” 

The expression on Jason’s face made him smile. 

Strong hands pulled him up and into a kiss again. Tim happily lost himself in it, settling into Jason’s lap as the other divested them both of their remaining clothes. God, he thought a bit deliriously, he could live on those kisses alone. Though, oh, that was Jason’s stomach and cock rubbing against his own; that was nice, too.

Heat was building up around them, now, and it had nothing to with the fire smouldering in the fireplace. Their bodies had found a rhythm, aided by the fluids gathering between them. Tim knew he was close, that Jason was, too; could feel it in the delicate trembles of the body under his, in the way Jason had to separate their mouths to groan and pant for air. 

But they returned to kissing, every time, as if they needed it more than breathing. 

Jason was the first to tense, coming against Tim’s stomach with a low groan Tim wanted to engrave into his brain. He followed suit with a shudder that felt like it would never stop, and the feeling of letting go of something. 

After, Tim considered moving, sure he was crushing Jason. He dismissed the thought from his mind. His guard (his lover) hadn’t ever shied away from complaining about inconveniences; he wouldn’t start now. Indeed, all Jason did once he had caught his breath was gently lift them both up and under the cover, Tim still half-way on top of him. 

(And shielded from both the door and the balcony by Jason’s body, Tim noted with some amusement.) 

“Think you can sleep now?” Jason asked gently. 

“Hmm.” Tim cuddled closer. “I shouldn’t. There are things we should talk—” He interrupted himself with a yawn. 

A heavy arm wrapped around his waist. It felt good. Safe. “Sleep for a bit, and I will wake you up early.” 

Tim wanted to nod, but before he knew it, sleep had claimed him. 

 

When he woke up the next morning to Jason’s gentle shaking, they were still closely entwined. The dim grey light filtering through the curtains told him that Jason had kept his word. It was still early. No need to hurry. 

Jason gave him another minute to wake up, then he gently tilted Tim’s head up to kiss him good morning. Tim was sure that he couldn’t taste good and he felt distinctly sticky where they had failed to clean up last night. 

Jason didn’t seem to care; his kiss was gentle and light and loving. When he pulled away, he whispered: “I would say we spend an appropriately romantic morning after together, but knowing you, you have questions to ask and plans to make.” 

Tim snorted in a most unprincely way. “As if you don’t.” Jason was spontaneous, sure, but he liked being in control of the circumstances in the exact same way Tim did. 

Jason grinned at him. “Of course. You want to start with the questions?” 

“What will your… group say?” Tim settled down Jason’s chest again, resting his right arm on it and hooking his chin over his wrist to look at him. 

“‘Congratulations.’” Jason smiled. “I’ve been here for three years, Tim. The writing has been on the wall. The worst that could happen is that they’ll insist on showing up for the wedding.” 

“I’d like that,” Tim told him, and Jason dropped a kiss on his forehead. 

“There won’t be any interference with this court. There hasn’t been for years.” He paused. “I cannot and will not promise the same for the Court of Snake’s Head.” 

“I’m shocked.”

To be fair, neither could Tim about the Midnight forces. He suspected the reason behind Bruce sending Dick to infiltrate Jason’s group of Outlaws was to prepare for exactly that. A possible joint manoeuvre, so to speak. 

As if Jason sensed the direction his thoughts had taken, he asked: “And your father?” 

“Gave us his blessing.” Tim grimaced, thinking of the smile on Bruce’s face. “His encouragement, even.” 

Gratifyingly, Jason looked surprised at that, too. Then he turned thoughtful. “Huh. I knew he was letting me off the hook—but that sounds like he is considering an alliance.” 

Tim raised his eyebrow at him. “Are you saying my father might have other motives besides my personal happiness?” 

Jason raised his right back. “Are you saying your father doesn’t have three motives for everything he does and loves killing two birds with one stone?” 

“He does—” 

“Also, I got a letter from my best friend telling me about this pretty young man that recently tried to join our group. Funnily enough, his description sounded a lot like a certain brother of yours. Now I’m sure that’s a coincidence?” 

So Dick _had_ gone to join the outlaws, not fight them. Tim loved being right. “How is he?” 

“I assume well, seeing how he has managed to join said best friend and his wife in their bed.” Jason laughed at Tim’s grimace. “I was trying to think of a way of telling your father that his son is fine and only blew his cover to me by apparently being pretty enough to warrant a detailed description.” 

“How about we don’t.” 

“And to think, the detailed description was probably Roy’s revenge for chewing his ear off about you.” 

“Then we should definitely invite them to the wedding—which the Crown Prince _will_ be expected to attend. See how Dick explains _that_.” 

Jason laughed and Tim felt his smile soften. He thought that Jason would likely always feel some loyalty to the group that had sent him and the mission he so obviously believed in. He also believed that the two of them, together, had a found a middle ground where they could handle that. 

Now that they had been so open with their bodies, it felt natural to let the words follow. 

There was a reason they were discussing this now, however. Bruce was likely impatiently waiting for an answer. Tim needed to stay on topic. 

“What do _you_ want? I realize that this,” Tim made a sweeping gesture that seemed to include all the trappings of royalty, “isn’t what you signed up for.” 

Jason had the gall to roll his eyes a that. “Not to press the point too much, but what I _signed up for_ was a suicide mission.” 

Tim pinched him.

“Ow. It would be weird seeing someone else follow you around,” Jason admitted. “I like protecting you. I don’t think I can pass that on to someone else that easily… that’s probably not an appropriate occupation for a husband, is it, though?”

Tim considered that. “I would not like anyone else around, either. However, I don’t see the need for it. As long as we’re together, I’m sure even Bruce would agree we won’t need anyone else. With some extra guards for official functions and for when one of us is gone.” 

He laughed at the expression on Jason’s face. Clearly he hadn’t thought about the fact that as the spouse of a prince, he would become a target, too. 

Just to poke the bear a bit more, Tim added: “You know Father will likely insist on bestowing you with at least a few titles.” Then he resolved into giggles, fueled by relief.

They could do this. Declaring their engagement would save the kingdom from a diplomatic slight to Bane—not to mention Tim from a loveless marriage—and help them on their way to a far more promising political alliance with the Outlaws. More importantly, Tim wouldn’t have to spend any more evenings wondering if Jason would be gone in the morning, returned to the mission he had never completely abandoned. 

With a contented sigh, he slid his arm down to hug Jason closer, resting his face on the other’s shoulder instead. For some long minutes, they lay there, Jason’s hand rubbing gentle circles on Tim’s back. 

Then the reality of what laid ahead returned. 

“This week is going to be hellish,” Tim groaned into Jason’s neck. 

“I don’t think it will be as much of a problem as you think. You’re barely in the public eye as it is. Marrying a commoner might cause a scandal, sure, but no more than the king adopting two.” 

Jason’s voice was soothing; still, he wasn’t helping matters. “Everyone will have something to say about it, Jason. _Everyone_. Are you sure you want to do this?” 

“Can’t be worse than that one ball where Stephanie decided to annoy your admirer by asking you to every dance and I had to keep said admiring lady from killing her. Or that time you had to mediate between Ra’s and Damian. Or that time—” 

“Alright, alright,” Tim laughed. “Still. Are you sure?” 

Jason didn’t answer him directly. “Is that everything that’s on your mind?” 

When Tim nodded, Jason gently pushed him off a bit and shifted over to where his discarded uniform jacket lay on the floor, twisting his upper body to take something out of an inner pocket. 

When he turned back to Tim, a simple golden band rested in the middle of his palm. 

For the first time this morning Tim was speechless. Somehow, for all their talk of getting married, he couldn’t fathom that he was being presented with a ring, in his bed, by Jason. 

“I’ve been carrying this with me for months now, Tim. I started saving up years ago.” Jason’s voice was low, earnest. “I’ve watched you when you’re cranky in the morning and feverishly working at night. I know you work too much, worry too much, drink way too much coffee. I’ve seen the council meetings and dances and diplomatic travels. I know you think you’re responsible for everything and everyone— I love you for it. I know what I’m getting into and I want it. Want _you_ ,” he corrected himself. “So. Your Highness, Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne, Prince of Gotham, Fifth Duke of Otisburg, Lord Blackgate, Knight of the Narrows, will you do me the honour of marrying me?” 

Tim had to haul him in by hand on the back of his neck for that; had to kiss him breathless before he said: “Yes.” 

Unsurprisingly the ring fit perfectly. Even more so, it looked right. 

It took them a long time to separate again. Eventually, though, unwilling to be caught in bed, they rose, washing up and getting ready to face the day.

Too quickly, there was a knock on the door. Tim suspected that it to be Alfred, sent by his king, or maybe his father himself. 

The outside world was calling for them. 

Tim looked at Jason, who was trying to smooth the creases out of his uniform jacket with remarkably little success. Finally, he gave up and pulled it on, calling out “Yes?” as he moved to open the door. 

Tim smiled. They would do just fine. 

**Author's Note:**

> Bruce knew about the ring. He’s been watching these fools pine for years now.


End file.
